Naming
by Elphaba'sGirl
Summary: "The little girl had many names; Gretta, Margie, Mags, Margaret... But Jack called her Maggie, and she liked that best. Jack himself was called by "Francis" some of the time, but he called himself Jack. Jack Kelly." Jack Kelly's sister considers names, naming, stars, work, and secrets.


**This is just a random oneshot about Jack Kelly and his sister.**

**Disclaimer: I own Maggie, Samuel, Angela, and Jonas, but unfortunately not Jack Kelly or Newsies.**

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><p>There came a time in the little girl's life when she began to realize things. She was three or four- five, maybe- and after the first few years of her life, she became aware of the people around her.<p>

And then, after some time had passed, they had names, suddenly, the people who would come into her bedroom and read her stories, and talk to her, and simply be near her.

First there was the man with the black hair and green eyes. He was tall, with a gentle smile. He'd bring her toys and give them names, and he'd tell her stories about them.

Then there was the lady with dull blond hair, delicate hands, and a voice rough from smoking.

There were two boys, one about seven years the girl's senior, there other only five. The older of the two had blond hair like the lady, but his was gloriously golden, and the younger had dark hair and light eyes and the sweetest voice imaginable.

The man, she learned, was called by "Jonas" (by the lady, and by angry voices belonging to people the little girl never saw) and by "Papa" (by the two boys). The lady was "Angela" (to Jonas and those gently-speaking people who came by and said things like "This isn't healthy" and "We're here to help" though the little girl didn't think they really cared) and "Mum" (to the boys, though sometimes the younger morphed it into "Mummy"). The two boys were "Samuel" (the eldest) and "Jack."

Jack was called by "Francis" some of the time, by Jonas and Angela when they spoke in big, scary voices about "education" and "the future," but Samuel called him Jack, and Jack called himself Jack. Jack Kelly. That's what the rough voices of what sounded like twenty other boys called him when Jonas and Angela weren't at home, too.

And the little girl herself had many names. Jonas called her "Gretta," most days, sometimes "Margie"; Angela used "Mags," "darling," and "baby." The sickly-sweet ladies and the wrinkled old man who came to see her sometimes (and who would give her awful things to drink and made her feel very uncomfortable ) called her "honey" and "sweetheart." The boy Samuel, who she didn't see much, called her "Margaret."

But Jack called her "Maggie," and she liked that best.

She admired the way the two simple syllables fell from his lips, and she loved the way she could feel the word vibrate in his chest when he said it while she sat very still in his lap.

So the little girl was Maggie, though only Jack called her that, and because she didn't tell him, he didn't know that she was Maggie in her mind.

As far as she was concerned, Gretta, Margie, Mags, Margaret, and all the others were nonexistent. Only Maggie was real. Only Jack knew her.

Of course, the connection when both ways, for only Maggie knew Jack Kelly. He told her secrets, which he'd never tell anyone else. The secrets worried Maggie, though she didn't know why, and she would never tell. Ever.

He told her secrets like, "I stole food for dinner tonight," and "I sold my coat today."

Jack brought her sweets sometimes; things like chocolate and peppermint and the sickly sweet sugar cubes that some people put in their coffee, (but Maggie just sucked on them until her tongue was tingly and then she swallowed). Sometimes, Jack would sing to her. He'd sing songs until the sky was dark, and then he'd start to go, but if Maggie grabbed his hand, he'd stay longer.

He'd talk to her about the city, about how desperately he wished there were stars here.

"What are stars?" Maggie asked once, and Jack smiled when he heard her voice, for she rarely spoke.

"Maggie, stars're holes in the sky where you can look through and see into heaven."

"Oh. Where are they?"

"You can't see them here, in the city. It's dark without them."

Maggie considered the stars. It made sense. It made sense because Jack _always _made sense; he understood her.

Jack made sure she was nice and cozy under the blankets at night. He brought her breakfast in the mornings and dinner at night, and he painted beautiful animals on her walls, so she wouldn't be alone when he went away.

After a while, he went away a lot more. She never saw Jonas or Angela or Samuel anymore, and though Jack sometimes made her drink the foul-tasting liquids, the wrinkled old man and the ladies didn't come anymore.

Maggie started seeing less and less of Jack when the tree outside her window changed from green to red. He got home when the only light was the silver disk in the sky (which Jack said was called the moon), and when he did he was dirty and smelled funny. The boys with rough voices, whose faces she'd never seen, started coming more and more, and an angry man with a loud voice and heavy footsteps came at least once a week, though Jack was never home. He told Maggie to give her brother a message, that if he didn't pay the money soon, he'd be evicted.

Maggie didn't know what that meant, so she figured it wasn't important. Not important enough to worry Jack about anyway.

"Where do you go, Jack?" she asked him one night, when she'd stayed up far too late in order to see him.

And Jack turned his gaze to her, shook his head, and said, "I go to work."

"Work?"

"So that I can bring you sweets and things."

Maggie grinned, but Jack only smiled a drawn little smile back at her.

But soon the sweets stopped coming, and she asked him, "Where do you go, Jack?"

"I go to work."

"No, you don't. I haven't seen you bring home sweets since the tree had leaves."

And he wouldn't bring home sweets for a long, long time. Instead, he came home looking thinner than he had when he left, and the rough-voiced boys came more and more often, telling him that some person named "Kloppman" could help with the living situation. But Jack said no, that he had to stay here, because Maggie was here and he wouldn't leave her.

Soon, Maggie became very, very sick, and just when she needed him most, Jack stayed away. He patiently explained whenever she asked that he was at work, that he had to work to buy food and something called "medicine." He said that he was at work, but that couldn't be true, because Maggie had almost forgotten the taste of chocolate.

It was when the tree once again had tiny buds that she felt the sweetness in her mouth once more. She only knew three things; she was ill, she was happy, and Jack was here with her.

"I can see the stars, Jack."

"Can you?"

"Yes."

Maggie didn't understand why Jack started crying then, but she burrowed into his arms and tried to comfort him as she took one last shaking breath.


End file.
